It Isn't Slow
by lifeinahole
Summary: When the town is in crisis, it's hard to find the time for pleasurable endeavors. Sometimes a quickie is all they can manage. Quickie One-Shot. Captain Swan.


Title: It Isn't Slow

Warnings: Rated M

Summary: When the town is in crisis, it's hard to find the time for pleasurable endeavors. Sometimes a quickie is all they can manage.

A/N: Here's a shamelessly smutty PWP to show my gratitude for all of you out there reading.

* * *

It isn't slow. They don't have the luxury of slow right now, so they work with what they have. They're barely three steps into a place that has four walls, a door, and a lock before his hand is down her pants and she's edging his jacket off his shoulders. Really, to them, it's all optional but she does not need any interruptions, and she figures they would get dirty looks and objections if she just straddled him in the booth at Granny's and fucked him to next Tuesday like she wanted to. So they made it to the room he still rents, instead. And it isn't slow.

She hasn't even gotten her boots off and Killian is already leading her over the edge of one orgasm, fingers expertly playing his Emma violin until she's biting the collar of his shirt and gasping, hands digging into his hair and pulling. And if he minds he doesn't say anything, just presses hurried kisses to her temple as he slows his fingers to bring her down as gently as he can.

She doesn't stop to catch her breath after he removes his hand. She launches herself into motion, pushing the jacket further down his arms so it dangles around his hook, sleeve trapped in the crook of the damn thing and seriously, you think they would've learned to take it off before they started stripping, by now. She doesn't take the time to free it. She doesn't entirely care if they have to drag the jacket and the vest and the shirt over to the bed with them at this point. She's already working on the button and zipper of his pants and he rocks against her hands as she brushes his erection. She presses her palm against him firmly, smirks at the noise he makes, something between a grunt and a sigh, before pulling away and shucking her own jacket to the floor.

"Get that figured out," she says, nodding toward the leather still hanging from his left arm. He looks down as if surprised there's anything to figure out, but grabs the hook through the sleeve and twists, lets it fall to the floor with the jacket, and starts on the shirt and vest buttons. He glances up to see her efficiently stripping. Well, trying to be efficient, anyway.

Normally, he would enjoy removing each piece of clothing with patience and reverence, but this whole Queens of Darkness thing has really put a damper on their free time. He watches as she gets trapped. Somehow, she thought taking off the pants and boots and socks all at once would be easier or quicker or something, but instead she's balancing against the footboard of the bed, trying to unlace her boot with her free hand and cursing under her breath when the laces get tangled.

He hasn't finished removing anything but the jacket and hook, but he moves to stand behind her. It's so natural and easy now to slide his fingers across her hipbone, press himself against her back and kiss her exposed shoulder. At least she managed to successfully remove one piece of clothing, and he's thankful for it.

"Having trouble, Swan?" The words murmur against her skin and she stops struggling and shivers. The pause gives her enough time to realize the laces are loose enough for her to pull the boot off, pant leg and socks quickly following.

"A lot better now," she says. She's down to undergarments, and she turns to see that he's still fully dressed, all buttons and fasteners undone but everything still in place. The small noise of irritation makes Killian laugh but he just slides his hand to rest on her lower back, pulling her closer and kissing her.

Emma is always amazed by his kisses because of the way he always seems like he's devouring her. There were men in her past that kissed her as if they were attempting to eat her face off, but not Killian. He kisses her like he's taking his time with a delicacy, even when they are rushed.

She's so wrapped up in the way his mouth is fitted against hers that she doesn't notice that he's edging them toward the footboard of the bed again, that he's enacting a plan. She loves it when he has a plan, though, so she lets him turn her around, hands braced on the footboard as he moves behind her. He plants kisses all the way down her spine until he reaches the waistband on her panties. There, he dips his tongue below the elastic, chuckling when her hips push back a bit, but keeps going. He draws the cotton fabric off her hips and down, tapping the inside of her ankle from his crouched position so she'll spread her legs.

He takes his time standing back up, making sure to skim his fingers and lips across the backs of her knees and thighs. She clenches her teeth, wanting to take the time to go slow like she knows he wants to, but they just _don't have time_.

"Killian, just-" She doesn't finish, because he's apparently decided to go from idling engine to racecar in the space of a heartbeat, his fingers dipping inside her. He's standing again, brushing her hair out of the way with his brace and grazing his teeth over the back of her neck.

"What was that, Swan? Just what now?" he teases. Her fingers are white where she clutches the footboard and she's wondering how her legs are still holding her upright when they feel like jelly.

"Just don't stop," she gasps out, thrusting back to match his rhythm.

"Ah, that might be a problem." He's moved so that he's speaking right beside her ear and the shiver it causes goes all the way down to her toes. "You see, I'd rather you come around my cock this time, love."

She's about to tell him to get on with it already, but he's there, the pants apparently pushed off as he was teasing her, and she was wondering why it had taken so long but who cares about that when there's Killian Jones, the once dreaded Captain Hook, swearing up a storm with his forehead pressed against her shoulder as he sinks in one inch at a time. And then nothing. He just stands there, filling her, which is great and all but she wants to hear that noise he makes when he's close, and she wouldn't mind making some noises of her own.

"Killian, move," she says and wiggles impatiently against him. He just rests his hand on her hip and chuckles, the cheeky bastard. When he presses himself against her back, she can feel the shirt and vest that he didn't bother to remove, along with a sliver of body heat where his exposed chest is touching her.

"Impatient, are we? Now maybe if you ask nicely," he says, sounding every inch a scoundrel and not a bit like the gentleman he claims to be. Her retaliation is simple, a clenching of her walls that has him groaning and finally, _finally_, pulling out and thrusting back into her hard. She mentally thanks the stupid kegel exercises she never stopped doing after Henry was born.

"That nice enough for you, _Captain_?" she asks, her lips quirking up as she looks over her shoulder at him. The wink and smile he sends in return make her breathe a little quicker.

"Hold on," is all he says in response. His hand slides forward and she does as she's told when he circles her clit, settling into an appreciated rhythm with hips and hand and her head drops forward. She clenches her eyes shut, anticipating the build of pleasure, and she knows the noises coming from her are anything but subtle.

When she feels it starting, that beautiful release she's been aching for since coming down from the first one, she grabs his hand and presses his fingers right where she needs them, breathing out his name as her orgasm sweeps through her. She's aware her fingers are digging into the wood, and she's a little afraid of breaking his hand where she's still pressing it into her clit, but he makes the noise she's been waiting for, a breathy moan that lets her know just how close he is. He leans forward, nipping her shoulder and mumbling her name and various endearments. He wraps his left arm around her waist and presses himself to her fully as he goes still behind her. There are a few more curse words whispered harshly as his hips twitch, riding out the aftershocks, until all the tension drains out of him completely.

Emma is genuinely surprised when her legs don't give out when she turns to face him, but she's distracted by his disheveled and satisfied appearance. She grabs a handful of shirt and pulls him forward, kissing him soundly.

"Not bad," she says lightly. He laughs and rocks forward, kissing her again in an attempt to hide his smug grin.

"Maybe next time we'll manage to remove _all_ our clothing," he says. She takes note of the boxer-briefs still around his knees, the socks still on his feet, the aforementioned shirt and vest. She lifts a shoulder in a shrug before responding. She's still wearing a bra, but everything else is in a pile on the floor by her feet.

"At least I managed to take off my socks," she mocks, but smiles when she says it.

"I was impatient," he responds, finally taking a moment to slide the fabric from his shoulders. He lets the rest of his clothing fall to the floor and reaches down to take off his socks last. When he's standing in nothing but the brace and his necklace, smug smile in place, she resists the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she reaches back to unclasp her bra and resists the urge to laugh when his eyes go straight to her breasts.

She can feel her body wanting all over again, but it's been too long of a day and they both need sleep for whatever they'll have to face the next day. He gathers her close, sighing at the contact of uninterrupted skin.

"Now, we've managed to get through this without any attacks or yelling or parental interference. Maybe we'll be able to get some sleep with the same courtesies. Will you be staying?" It's not unusual for him to ask. Sleepovers are still relatively new for them, but they also make her greedy. Every time she gets to wake up next to him, she wants to keep doing it.

Tonight, however, she doesn't even have to think about it. She nods and they each move to the sides they have designated as their own without ever saying a word about it. It's pointless, anyway, since they both end up in the middle of the bed, a tangle of limbs and blankets.

And while she knows there's a threat to the whole town's happiness out there, for now she's content and warm and happy, with Killian pressed against her back and his hand holding hers, and one day she knows it'll be allowed to be slow if they want it to be.


End file.
